I too would look this content if I had caught 6 trophies, including the Manitoba record!
Day
8 “Secrets”
On the last day I caught only one
fish, a pike in Monster Cove that may have reached thirty inches if put in traction. The sun shone all day long, which should have
warmed the northern coves, but that cold front held on, as did that eastern
breeze, and the coves never really warmed up, and the fish stayed deep where
they were out of reach.
Spending eight days up here has
taught me some of the lake’s secrets.
For example, southern, eastern, and western coves don’t hold fish this
early in the season. Then, if it’s a
good-looking northern cove but you’ve only managed to pull out a hammer handle
or two in the inlet, there will be no big fish further in. It’s quite simple, the big fish would have
cannibalized the smaller ones on the way to his nap in the sun back in the
cove. Scientifically speaking, the water
needs to be at least sixty degrees to get the hogs to come up from the
depths. If it’s not, it’s a better use
of your time to head back to the cabin and play horseshoes.
I learned to take it slow while
piloting a boat in unknown water.
I learned that a cabin and all the
creature comforts of home are all dependent on the fuel supply. One bottle of propane is in actuality a three-hour
egg timer for how long before you become a cave man.
I learned that northern pike know
that they are on top of the food chain.
That’s why a pike will follow a bait all the way up to the boat, ignore
the fishermen looking down on him, and
then thrash whatever lure had the audacity to swim in its home. That's also why a pike with the tail of a five pound lake trout sticking out of its gullet will still go after your lure.
Considering that last point, I
learned that I should never, ever swim in these waters. Picture Canada’s version of Jaws.
I learned that when you are on a
boat in the water in a northern lake, islands look just like the mainland. You better take a map, a GPS, a compass
(especially for cloudy days) and still pay attention to where you are.
I learned that we are subject to God’s
weather schedule Staying dry means staying warm, (a lesson I
have relearned many times between deer hunting and trout fishing in the
mountains) and that everything, the fishing and the fisherman’s comfort level,
is dependent on what the weather decides to do.
Still, we received the sunshine we
prayed for and reaped few benefits. I
find it somehow fitting that we were baffled on the last day when we expected
to catch the moose snot out of them.
It’s fitting that a monstrous lake such as Kamuchawie, with its maze of
islands and boneyards of dead trees was unwilling to give up all her
secrets. The next party will have flown
in the next day after the float plane flew us out, and they will have found success
and had their share of head-scratching moments.
And just when they think they have it all figured out, like we did on
day six, the northern pike will turn on them, just like they did on us numerous
times this trip, the last day especially.
We will all go to our respective
homes with our thirsts quenched, but also with an immense hunger for the
secrets that hide uncovered beneath the surface of the water that we were only
able to scratch. As for myself, I did
answer one question: I am not too old to fish.
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